Tales of Sin City
by Kokiri Boy
Summary: This is a series consisting of many tales. Think of this series as a really long Sin City movie.


Tales of Sin City

Tale One: Revenge by MY Law

Chapter One

My heart beats faster as I look down at my watch. Each time the long hand moves in the overrated clockwise direction, my qualms about the current situation grow worse. The only thought that keeps me calm in composure is the fact that nothing can harm me yet. I sit safely in my car as of now. The green neon light given off by the various meters and gauges is the only thing that allows me to see my cigarette lighter, which I will be reaching for very shortly. Until my watch dings out 2:30, I will sit back here and wait in my car. My eyes wander off from the lighter and back to my watch. Only five minutes. Five minutes until I blow this taco stand. Hell, not only will I blow the taco stand, but the entire city that supports it. Each of the city's citizens that come to purchase tacos will be dead; therefore, I do believe the taco stand will have no paying customers. Soon the taco stand will go out of business and the owner will have to file bankruptcy. The owner will then come home to find a note on the kitchen stove that has a written message about his wife leaving him for a guy named "Carlos". Yeah. That sounds about right. Snapping out of my twisted taco fantasy, I grab the cigarette lighter that I promised to use, and pulled a death stick from my trusty right pocket. As I put it in my mouth, I notice my glowing watch. Four minutes. The cigarette taste good even before I light it. I light myself up and lean back in my seat. One of the many thoughts that race through my head is the thought of death. If I die here, where the fuck do I go? Do I die, have a funeral, and afterwards does my spirit go to heaven…or hell? Perhaps I just rot in the ground, and the whole religion story turns out to one big fucking cult that transcends onward through generations until a religious war starts that ends up killing off the human race. Wonder what the next dominate species of the earth will be? …Monkies. After the humans have all screwed each other over, the monkey's evolutionary process gets a kick start and the whole chain starts from square one. From cavemen all the way to walking upright and using cell phones. I'm a genius. The things I come up with can baffle the mind of the biggest brain in science. Three minutes. Another thought that comes through my head is my partner, Richard. I look over at Richie and he's staring right back at me. His seat isn't leaned back like mine, but that's Richie's nature; never taking it easy. He's always one step ahead of the game. I still don't understand why he was partnered up with me. Maybe the chief thought that pairing the cleanest cop with the dirtiest cop would be amusing. Well that fat bastard can shove another doughnut down his throat, because I have no intention of giving him what he wants. The chief wants me to call in and complain about Rich. No way. In fact, I should call in and tell him how much I enjoy his company.

I take my cigarette out of my mouth and blow smoke into the interior of the car, "You nervous there, Richie?"

He takes his eyes from mine, then moves his arms from the rest and folds them under his chest, he tells me, "You can't help but be nervous at times like these, you know? You never if you're gonna fail…or die."

I chuckle at the fact that I was just thinking about the same thing, "It's good that you bring up death. I need a second opinion on something."

My cigarette goes back into my mouth and I listen to his inquisition, "A second opinion on death? What do you need to know?"

"What do you think happens when we die? Do we just rot in the ground, or is there a greater power up there that takes my soul to heaven or hell?"

"You know me, Ian. I don't care much for religion."

Satisfied with another drag, I take my cig out and rest it on the retractable ash tray that some genius invented. It took a big smoker to create such a thing.

"Me neither, Richie, but I need someone else's opinion. You can at least tell me if you don't believe."

"I don't want to come out and flat out say 'I don't believe', man."

"Why, are you mixed about the subject?"

"Not mixed; confused."

I see what he means. He thinks that if he stays neutral about the whole thing, God will allow him passage…if there is a God. I decided to ask him out straight, "Do you really think that staying neutral will save you from heaven's wrath?"

"No, I just want to stay neutral until I see the light. I mean, I don't want to flat out deny the Holy Spirit, because they say denying the Holy Ghost gets you a one way unforgivable ticket to Hell, you know? It's the unforgivable sin."

I chuckle at his surprisingly deep answer, "You do know what the rest of the country calls this city, right?"

He shrugs, "Who doesn't know? This place is Sin City. The only people that go to heaven, if it exists, are children that die at age seven or below."

Shit, he hit the nail on the head. Since idle conversation had taken place, my curiosity about what time it is takes over, and I look at my watch again. Fuck - less than a minute; thirty seconds and counting…down.

"Hey, Richie, you ready?" I ask him while pulling my pistol out, and smothering my cigarette. I have a feeling that I'll miss the little ash spitter.

His arms unfold and he does the same, he pulls out his pistola.

"Damn, Ian, that time already?"

"Yeah. We should have spent this time going over the game plan instead of talking about something that, for all we know, could be a fuckin' fairy tale."

With our pistols out and our eyes alert, we waited for the first sign of trouble. According to the briefing we got back at the station earlier this night, a car should pass through this parking garage, letting us know to take action. That particular car, a green convertible, will be smuggling the drugs that we want. This underground drug ring has given us at the station too much trouble over the years; I'm glad the chief finally grew some balls and decided to go for the throat: the hideout. Richie and I will interrogate these little bastards, asking where the main squeeze is. They divulge the info, and then we call for backup. From there, I let the chief do the work. Though, I do question the chief's choosing of only two cops for this particular objective; I guess he is taking the snake in the water approach. An awesome approach if I do say so myself; I always enjoyed watching action movie stealth scenes. The thirty seconds pass and we go into negative time, waiting for that green Corvette to come rolling by so we can strike. No words are spoken, because Richie and I are so concentrated on the entrance. We hold our pistols to our side, ready for anything and everything. Heh, now I regret putting an end to that little white cancerous friend of mine; nerve racking moments like this have a way of getting to smokers.

"Ian, twelve o' clock!" Richie silently yells at me. My quick reflexes allow my eyes to fix on the prize: the green car of salvation…for us cops. The car sneaks through the mist that creeps into the parking garage from the outside world, as if it were a figment of my imagination; something other worldly. Though this car was far from living, it seemed to have its own personality. The way it moves meter by meter to the swap meet creeps me out. Once the car got well into the garage, we turn on our own car: a red Corvette. It was at this time that I couldn't help but make a joke, "The colors of Christmas, hey, Richie?"

"My friend, that's an omen telling us that everything will be just fine."

"Let's hope."

I start driving; following the green machine's every movement. Our headlights are off, and so far, everything seems to be going well; but then again, it is only about forty or so seconds into the mission. Time passes on as we follow the green Corvette all the way up to the top floor. As the green car passes on to the flat garage top, we park our car just out of sight; half way in, half way out.

"Do we get out now?" Richie asks me in confusion. He's a good kid. He wants to follow my lead because he trusts me to make things turn out right.

"Yeah, but be sure not to close your door. We don't need to make any noises." I say, trying to sound responsible, like a big brother. We both steadily open our doors, making sure that no creaks seep out the un-oiled door. I don't know about Richie, but going from a claustrophobic car into an open area really fills me with relief; at least for the time being. The air on top of the garage is humid. My jacket blows in the urban breeze, and every time I inhale, my brain melts with city steam. I look at Richie and see that he's just as ready as I am, because a man who holds his pistol like that means business. I wonder if this kid has an animal side; maybe I'll get to see it. After all, it is the nice ones you gotta watch out for. Ahead of us, it looks like the swap has begun. Men have gotten out of the green car, and are walking towards a blue van; each of them carrying a heavy briefcase. Richie stares at me; I guess he wants me to say something. I don't say a word; I simply wink and proceed forward. Richie-boy gets the message and follows me; he knows that I know best. Now, the fun begins.

"Drop the cases and put you hands up, now!" I yell at them with my gung-ho attitude and facial expression. The dealers do nothing; they smile and nod. What the hell? Do they think I'm here to just say 'hello'?

WHACK!

Before I can even finish that thought, my head is pounded by an unidentified flying bludgeon. The hit causes my loyal legs to betray me and give out. I fall backwards on the damp concrete; limp and helpless. My head feels like it's about to explode, and my vision is going blurry. The night stars begin to blend together like a drug addict's connect the dots. I hear footsteps. It must be the drug dealers coming over here to finish me off. This is it…this is the end. My only wish is that I could see the cowardly mother fucker that knocked me out while my back was turned. Amidst the connected stars, I see Richie's face come into view. He smiles.

That sneaky little rat.


End file.
